Half Remembered Past
by TheOneInTheMirror
Summary: The Hogwarts castle has always been strange. A strange place attracts strange people. How did the castle walls become so embedded with magic, and should the answer really be known? History contains all knowledge, but problems are plenty when the one who witnessed it can barely remember it for himself.
1. Lost

The man on the floor had no knowledge of who he was, or who he used to be. He remembered few details about himself, other than the fear, a fear that seemed to lodge itself in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The mere notion of liking and disliking held no meaning for the man. He had wiped his slate clean, leaving behind a blank palate.

However, the purpose of a blank palate requires an idea of what one wants to put on it. Without that basic idea, the palate will remain a mystery none can decipher. The man shivering on the stone floor had zero connections with the world around him. The singular emotion he could place to his surroundings was raw fear. Just as a newborn cries when it is brought into a strange and horrible world for want of comfort, so the man whimpered in terror. Yet there was no other human being there to comfort the fellow. The looming castle walls seemed full of dark, horrifying secrets. Only his abject terror could comfort him in its suffocating, sickening embrace.

A shuffling noise reached the man's ears. The terrified fellow's heart began to pound in his chest, a dreadful throbbing in his head accompanying its rhythm. With a small bleat of fear, the man forced himself to his feet, staggering as his full weight fell to his legs. The walls seemed to be pulsating with life to the man's disoriented vision. The shuddering tremors in his body, assisted by both fear and cold, forced the man to clutch desperately at the stone wall for balance.

The shuffling noise seemed to be growing louder, and for an instant the man felt he was going to be sick. "_No," _he thought to himself. _"I mustn't give up!" _Narrowing his eyes to focus his vision, the man managed to pick up his head and survey the area for some kind of hiding place, barely managing to keep his precarious place on the wall.

In front of him a small archway framed long a hallway that lead deeper into the foreboding castle. All was made of rough, gray stone, although an embroidered rug was laid out before him. Near to the archway was a small table holding a potted plant and a small candle. Both appeared dusty, although the plant looked freshly watered. The idea of someone recently watering the plant sent a shiver up the man's spine, but he couldn't place the exact reason as to why.

To his right was a door. The door was made of light brown wood, and it looked well-worn and smooth. The man nodded to himself. "_I can wait in there until this fit I'm having passes over, and then I can find out what's going on…"_ He tried to avoid thinking about who he was as well, but the question gnawed and worried at him.

Staggering badly, the man went over to the door, vision blurring as it came into focus. As he reached down to turn the handle, a wave of nausea struck him. He reeled forward, fumbling for the door knob as he fell into the door. The door swung inwards with the man clinging to the doorknob, jerking him to the floor as it crashed open. The man gave a short cry of pain as his knees connected with the rough stone.

Suddenly, the distant, vague shuffling turned into sure footsteps, strong and decisive footsteps, footsteps steadily increasing in volume as the approached the man. Heart pounding wildly, the man blindly slammed the door shut and staggered into the small room. He couldn't tell if the thrumming came from the steps of whatever was coming towards him or from the frantic beating of his own heart. Both served to make him sick with fear.

Stumbling backwards, eyes on the door, a grunt of pain escaped him when his hip connected sharply with the lone table in the room. Glancing back at the offending table, his eyes alighted upon a chair that was neatly pushed under the table. An idea struck him, and with stumbling, sloppy movements, he grabbed the chair and brought it towards the door. Disoriented, he again smashed his hip into the table, but managed to grit his teeth through the jolt of pain. Thumping the chair against the door loudly, he created a mock barricade, with the back of the chair jammed into the knob.

Just then, the thumping outside intensified and the man scrambled back in panic, throwing himself under the table. His head conked painfully against the table, and he gave an unconscious yelp of shock. Unexpectedly, the noises outside ceased.

The silence only served to heighten the tension, and as the seconds seemed to stretch into years the man's already shot nerves began to unravel. He could not stop the whimpering pants that came out with each breath, and his trembling limbs made the fabric on his body create a rough, scratchy noise he was sure those outside could hear. In an attempt to calm himself, the man reached out to grab a table leg. As soon as his hand appeared in the corner of his vision, however, his delirious imagination saw something reaching for him, and he gave a loud and startled cry.

"Daniel, we know you're in this room," a deep and sinister voice growled behind the closed door.

The sudden noise made the man whimper in fright, but the name made him pause in curiosity. "_Daniel? Is that… Is that me?"_ The man did not know for certain, but decided to adopt the name, if only to have something to call himself.

"I've read your note, Daniel. The one you addressed to yourself. I must say, you put too much faith in a man who has no recollection of the life he lived. In fact, your idea of saving your "innocence" while following the plan in this letter is rather… insane." At this the deep voice chuckled, sending shivers up Daniel's spine.

This man… This terrifying man knew who he was, or at least who he used to be. Daniel felt a strange urge to reach out to the man and question him about this "past Daniel", but something within him quailed at the thought. Instead, he pulled his knees close to his body and hugged them, staring at the door.

"The door won't keep anyone out for long, Daniel, so I suggest you open this door now," the voice rumbled warningly outside.

Daniel did not reply.

A loud, breathy sigh echoed from behind the door, and with a start Daniel saw the doorknob twist slightly. When it would not budge the twisting turned into violent wrenching, ending with a frustrated grunt. A soft shuffling sounded outside, and a flutter of hope went through Daniel. "_Maybe he'll forget about me and leave me in peace," _Daniel thought hopefully.

A guttural snarling resonated behind the door, accompanied by heavy, thumping steps. The door suddenly crashed inward, wood splintering as some outer force slammed into it. Daniel stared wide-eyed at the gaping hole in the door, watching in horror as his only means of protection was destroyed. The chair has shattered under the impact, and the few slivers attached to the hinge could never qualify as a door.

Daniel wailed in fright and tumbled backwards, desperate to escape the monster that was now groping blindly inside the room. Daniel suddenly felt his back smack painfully against the opposite wall, just as the pale, fleshy monster grunted and tore the last of the door to shreds. Fear tightened his throat, and Daniel's breathing whooshed out in panicked gasps. The monster stood for a moment, then it snarled loudly, a wet guttural noise, and lunged at Daniel.

In desperate panic, Daniel screamed, jolting up from the floor and throwing himself against the table, flipping it at the monster. The monster slammed straight into it with a resounding "thunk", and for the moment it was dazed Daniel bolted out the door.

For a split second Daniel thought with delirious hope that he would escape. A painful, vice-like grip wrapped around his right wrist immediately after he dashed out of the door frame, stifling all thoughts of joyous freedom and replacing them with intense misery and terror. For at the end of the large hand latched onto his smaller hand was a stern, elderly man who stared down at the meeker man with loathing. The cold blue eyes glared down at Daniel, and Daniel's own eyes began to water as the grip tightened.

In a moment of wild panic, Daniel threw his full body weight away from the man in an attempt to free himself. The older man released him quickly, and the sudden loss of balance sent Daniel sprawling across the rough stone. Dazed and hurting, Daniel had no time to react before the other man stepped over to him.

Daniel cringed away from the other man as he stepped nearer, and a snarled, "How pathetic," reached his ears before a solid boot slammed into his stomach. Daniel gasped as the air in his lungs flew from him. The pain sent tremors along his body, and his entire being began to tremble and shake. A distant memory stirred in Daniel, and abruptly he remembered.

Yet the memory evoked no warm feelings. Only the knowledge that his father had been abusive and his childhood had been spent in fear.

This realization brought tears to Daniel's eyes, and he felt a sob wrench itself from his throat. All at once he was crying. Daniel didn't know who this man was, but he was just as cruel as this distant, barely remembered father. The pain and terror was all too much and the abuse struck a tender nerve in him.

The man above had gone silent for a second, but without warning he began to move about rapidly. Fighting back his tears, Daniel desperately swallowed his fear and, gasping from the lump lodged in his throat, he raised his eyes. Crying out in alarm, he tried, oh, how he tried, to scramble away, but the monster slammed his club-like hand into his head and the pain overwhelmed him. Darkness pursued him in his dreams.

Daniel awoke with a terrible headache, one that pounded at his skull and squeezed at his eyes. His body felt strangely light, but his wrists and ankles felt pained and rubbed raw, probably due to something being tied to each limb. When Daniel tried to move, the things tied around his wrists dug deeper into the tender flesh. That was when he opened his eyes.

His bleary eyes took a moment to adjust to the scene. His eyes felt raw from crying, and abruptly Daniel recalled all that had occurred so recently. Jolting up, he blinked rapidly to remove the blurriness, and when he could finally focus he gasped in shock.

Daniel was tied, stark naked, to two large posts. Four separate ropes were attached to his wrists and ankles, forcing him into a spread eagle position. Blood oozed from where the rope had chafed his flesh, and Daniel could feel his panic mounting when he realized he had no hope of escaping. A wave of depression hit him, and he sunk down as tears began to form when a voice suddenly called to him.

"_Young man, are you quite all right?" _ The voice asked in a distinct German accent.

Unsure as to how to respond, since he could not see the other man, Daniel bit his lip and stammered with a hoarse, raw voice, "N-no, sir, I-I feel really sad and… and s-scared."

The words were difficult to find, floating as they were in a sea of lost memory, and admitting to himself that he was miserable only heightened Daniel's despair. When the man did not respond, Daniel's head sank to his pale chest. Daniel's breath caught in his throat when the voice spoke again, "_Oh, I'm very sorry to hear zhat. You vere quite zhe curious fellow before zhis incident."_

Daniel felt an immense relief when the voice responded, but an unexpected rush of curiosity as well. "_Does this kind old man know who I used to be?"_

"Do you know what I used to be like?" Daniel asked in a rush, words jumbling together in their haste to get out. Daniel felt slightly embarrassed about the garbled words he had spewed, and he hoped the voice could understand him.

Out of the corner of his eye Daniel saw something squirming towards him. Thoughts of his past were instantly shoved beneath his conscious mind as panic overrode it. Trying to keep his eyes on the crimson tendril, Daniel strained against his bonds, but that only served to make them tighter. Daniel jerked his limbs away from the poles he was tied to, and was surprised when the beam swayed slightly in his direction. Inspiration struck him, and he heaved against the ropes, pulling his arms towards his body. The rope cut into his wrists, and pain lanced up Daniel's arms as his muscles strained against the bonds, the force pulling into awkward angles. He dared not look at the posts, because he knew if he saw them collapsing inwards he would stop and ruin any chance of escape.

Daniel was panting, sweat cascading down his body his hands turning purple form lack of oxygen as blood welled up from under the rope. Suddenly the voice from before spoke again, urgently and with apparent panic, "_Hurry, boy, zhere's not much time!"_

With a strained grunt, Daniel pulled inward, and abruptly the force he was so desperately pulling at gave way to nothing. Daniel gave a strangled yelp before the posts collapsed. Daniel was yanked painfully down, body slamming into the compact ground. The falling posts slammed into his body, bludgeoning him mercilessly. Daniel let out a short scream when his right leg was crushed beneath the falling stone pillar, and the instinct to pull his remaining limbs closer barely saved his arm from suffering the same fate as the posts collapsed.

Grimacing in pain and breathing heavily, Daniel blinked back tears as he assessed the damage. He was underneath one pillar which had managed to fall on top of the other. His leg was lodged between this space, and Daniel paled when he felt warm fluid gushing over his skin. Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat, he focused on the nearest task at hand; freeing his tied hands.

The knot was a mere slip-knot, and Daniel brought the rope to his teeth and began to tug at it. At first, the hempen material would not obey, and Daniel struggled not to accidently bite himself whilst trying to grip the rope. Finally, his teeth locked around it and he yanked back, grunting under his breath from exertion. The iron taste of blood filled his mouth, and the smell engulfed his nostrils as he struggled to breath in the tiny, confined space. At last he felt the rope loosen around his hand. All at once, a wash of agony flooded up his arm as feeling returned to his hand, and he bit harder into the rope as a muffled scream tore itself from his throat.

Flexing his now free fingers, warm tears drifted down his face as the jarred nerves buzzed in pain. The once confining rope fell away, and Daniel couldn't help but glare at it, as though it had been the one to tie him up.

"_But that's not right," _he thought, a sigh escaping from him. "_It was that cruel, cruel man who put me here for some reason."_

Daniel shookhis head as though to alleviate the feelings of despair, and then he set to work on freeing his other hand, working with his teeth and his right hand. When the wave of pain flooded the freed hand Daniel once more cried out, but he soothed the pain by massaging the aching skin.

As he leaned forward to undo his left leg, a wave of light-headedness and nausea swept over him, and he reeled back onto the floor as the heat in the small enclave intensified. Bile rose threateningly in his throat and he turned his head and hurled the contents of his stomach onto the ground. Sickened, Daniel tried to turn away, but that only provoked the nausea, and his stomach heaved in an effort to relieve itself.

Daniel felt the yellow, acidic bile dribble down his chin, and a small, pathetic whimper escaped him. His body had been growing paler as blood seeped out of his leg, and now his entire body was shuddering as the stone engulfed him in frigidness. A sudden whiff of sweetness hit him, and he breathed in the calming aroma. It was heavily masked by the sour, rank stench of bile, but it was there; a strange, calming scent that reminded him of something… It had been the smell he had woken up to in the hallway, and now it plagued him with a whisper of memories. What was it…

"Damascus rose!" he exclaimed, or in this case wheezed. But he remembered something that had happened in his past life, and the blurred memory bolted into the front of his mind.

He had been in a state of panicked fury, rushing about the castle in a frenzy. He was muttering things rapidly under his breath, but Daniel was unable to "hear" them in the hazy recollection. The past Daniel rushed into a room and paused for a second, gathering his breath before lunging towards a cabinet full of jars, jar containing a plethora of multi-colored liquids, and one that held pickled eyes that seemed to catch the past Daniel's own eye.

The past Daniel grabbed a large pot that was clearly labeled "Damascus Rose". In his haste, a gush of bright pink liquid spilled out onto the floor, coupled with a multitude of rose petals. Cursing lightly, past Daniel brought the pot over to a table and pulled out a badly crumpled piece of paper. Although the finer words were blurred, Daniel remembered the large words of the title; "How to prepare an amnesia potion".

Past Daniel skimmed the note, and paused for a second, reading a part that (Daniel assumed) must have been an important bit. "Do not drink raw, for the effects will be amplified, leaving the subject rendered incapable of recalling any previous memories. This will obliterate most of the subject's personality, and will cause mental health problems. Other side effects include…" past Daniel trailed off and, with shaking hands, he filled a large wine bottle with the un-purified liquid.

For a moment, he held the filled bottle at arm's length, watching the thick, viscous fluid dribble down from the top. His eyes followed the lengthening trail, and he abruptly thumped the bottle onto the table, rattling the vials and other apparatuses upon it. A wretched grimace graced his features, and his hands went to his face, rubbing the skin into folds. His trembling hands wouldn't cooperate, and a small sob fled from the past Daniel.

Suddenly, his features hardened, and he reached into a pocket on his trousers and pulled out another crumpled note. This one was relatively new, and the black ink had smeared across the page. He stared at it for a moment before placing it on the table, smoothing it out carefully. He grabbed the bottle full of the amnesia drink, and with a deepening frown, he muttered, "For her."

Past Daniel put the top of the bottle to his mouth and gulped down the concoction. The dreadfully sweet substance filled his mouth, the stench filling his nose, but he swallowed the fluid until it nearly choked him.

Coughing, past Daniel hastily wiped the pink fluid off his mouth, scratching lightly at where it gathered in the corners. Inexplicably, a kind of mad terror seized him, and he bolted from the room, bottle flailing wildly from his swinging hand, spilling the liquid occasionally. A babbling speech jumbled out of his mouth, words that Daniel could no longer understand nor remember. The last memory he had was collapsing before a door, and then the nightmare had started.

The strange memory left Daniel feeling bewildered, but a brief hope fluttered in him that all was not lost. So, with renewed vigor, Daniel quickly untied his left leg, glad that the rope had not been tightened as much as the ones around his wrists. But then there was his broken right leg.

Clenching his teeth together, Daniel wrapped his trembling hands around his knee, just above the crushed portion. A convolution of weakness swept through him, leaving him gasping for air. Gulping down the intense feeling of helplessness, Daniel again wrapped his hands about his knee, and yanked at the wrecked limb.

The lower leg slid out easily enough, and Daniel thought this rather peculiar when he quickly realized it was lubricated by his own blood. Tears sprung to his eyes, and exhaustion flooded his frame as the extent of the injury came to light. It was a complete compound fracture, the fibula bone cracked, slicing through the muscle and tendons that were supposed to compromise the back of his leg. Now that the pillar was no longer pressing down on the wound, his blood flowed freely, the crimson fluid covering his bare leg and pooling beneath him.

Panic and horror consumed Daniel and, screaming, he scrambled away from the ravaged leg, trying to get away from the reality of his hopeless situation. His mind couldn't take it, he yearned to escape. His conscious mind came back to existence when he had cleared the wreckage. He had dragged himself away, leaving a wide trail of blood leading to his broken body. "_And that's what I am. I'm broken, in both body and spirit, unable to remember anything from my past and ruined for whatever future I might have had. I can't even walk properly anymore."_

Before the sobbing could escalate, a dreadful, inhuman howl rent the air near him. mIt wailed in anger, sorrow lacing the loud, caterwauling cry. It chilled Daniel, and he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was a tendril, thick and blood-red, pinkish dangling from its tentacle as it began to overrun the room. The howling set up once more and Daniel struggled to raise his head from the floor to see what was causing the ruckus. As soon as he saw it he screeched.

A large mass of flesh was moving towards him, tendrils reaching out and grasping at the walls, pulling itself towards him. The pulsating flesh seemed to rip apart the very air, tearing the room with its thrumming vocalizations. The most terrifying aspect was the thickening darkness gushing from it. It was the most menacing creature Daniel had seen in all his recent memory, and fear drove him to his foot.

Staggering horribly but gripped by the menacing terror, Daniel limped from it, but a painful slap to his one good leg sent him sprawling to the floor. The monster had caught him, and already the tendrils were spreading up his legs, mauling his pale flesh. Daniel screamed, tears flowing freely as he tried to free himself.

"_It's hopeless, I can't do it. I wasn't meant to live."_ The thought sent a flood of self-pity through him, but suddenly the tendrils were wrapping around his stomach, tearing into the flesh as though they were seeking to rip him apart from the inside.

Daniel screamed and cried, calling out in desperation, "VOICE! Voice, help me, please, I c-can't do.." his own voice trailed off as his lip trembled in pain, sobbing wails wrenching from his body unbidden as he cried.

_ "I'm terribly sorry, Daniel, but zhere is nozhing I can do. Please forgive me, but zhis is zhe only vay."_

Darkness swam into Daniel's vision as the monster continued to swallow him hole. The inky blackness drowned him, and Daniel's exhausted mind and body  
collapsed into unconscious, where darkness pursued him in his descent.

Author's Note: So begins HRP. I do hope any who actually find this story and read it enjoy it as well! While it may seem more Amnesia than Harry Potter at the moment, that's because, well, it is. But don't worry! Chapter Two is in the works, and I daresay the Potter gang will make a much needed appearance. This story isn't in this section for nothing!

Anyways, if you enjoyed the story, drop me a review, please! If you absolutely loathed the story, don't just say so, tell me in detail, so that I might improve in the future! Got any questions? I'm sure Daniel has them too! Ask away, and I shall respond, but if it's a story element, well, you'll just have to wait. Thanks for reading! Later~


	2. Unbearable Agony

He knew that time was passing. It was difficult to tell in the strangling darkness, but Daniel could feel it moving. The fading pain was his only indicator that time was flowing.

When Daniel had first been first been banished to this hellish blackness, the intense agony he felt was unbearable. It had been all over his body, writhing into his skin, burning like liquid fire through his veins with every frantic heartbeat. The pain had burst into his brain unexpectedly, and the soundless scream that burst from his burning lungs followed him into unconsciousness.

After Daniel again awoke, or assumed he was awake since the world beyond his eyelids was just as shadowed, the pain was slightly subdued. Each heartbeat racked Daniel's body with pain, and his eyes felt like they were going to burst. His headache had mellowed to a powerful throbbing that felt blinding, but only if he could see in the first place. Daniel attempted to move, which proved to be a big mistake. The agony slammed into him, made worse by the brief respite he had. Blissful unconsciousness freshly claimed him.

As time elapsed, the pain slowly subsided. If it subsided in centuries or mere seconds, Daniel could not say, but he was grateful for each breath that became easier, if he was breathing. Besides the constant misery, Daniel's body felt numb, as though suffering a form of paralysis. The inky darkness still bothered him, and occasionally he would tremble as he stared at the dark, empty world. However, the trembling would import painful afflictions, and eventually it would heighten until Daniel could no longer tolerate it. So, Daniel learned to cope with the darkness.

Ultimately the sharp paroxysms became dull aches, just noticeable if focused upon. Soon after this calm, Daniel saw…something. It was visibly lighter than his timeless, lightless purgatory, and immediately Daniel struggled towards it. Ignoring the sharp stab of pain, he rushed towards the now visible light. A low thrumming roar shook the darkness, and burning agony laced up his legs. Giving out a cry of desperation, Daniel lunged towards the light with all of his strength, clawing with limbs weighed down by slick, slimy tendrils to get to his single source of hope.

Unexpectedly, a green light burst from the small pinprick of light, forcing Daniel to shield himself from the burning glare. He couldn't escape it, and the tendrils of his once dark world wrapped around him in what felt like an attempt to tear his body apart. A scream wrenched itself from Daniel's hoarse throat, the realization that he could hear it making him jolt. The green light was expanding, and when it finally engulfed Daniel's surroundings he realized something; his nightmarish world was screaming too.

Harry Potter bolted up in his bed with a scream formed in his throat. His heart beat frantically in his chest, and his gasping breaths did little to soothe its fluttering. The agony had felt so real… In fact, the scar on his forehead felt inflamed. The terror he had experienced seemed to rake at his fragile mind. But… they hadn't been his emotions or his mind. He had experienced it, but he would never react with such cowardice, and Harry had no fear of the dark.

Yet, that terror and agony was too tangible for comfort. Harry shivered and pulled the red blankets closer to his head. The room felt darker and lonelier. That man in his dream… no, nightmare, had little recollection of his life. The poor fellow did something to himself to forget his past life. That action had left the man alone, and in a harsh, desolate world full of gruesome horrors and cruelty. It was no life to step into.

Harry gathered himself and tossed the light blanket away from his body. It crumpled into an ungainly red heap at the foot of the mattress. Harry felt a strange anxiousness. Pausing in his shuffling attempts to get out of bed, Harry took a moment to put on his glasses and get his bearings as the room came into focus. Ron was snoring softly, his face nearly smothered by the pillow he clung to. Dean, Seamus and Neville were also sleeping soundly, so none of them had felt the disturbance. "_Well," _Harry thought, "_it's not like they could have shared my dream."_

Glancing out the window, Harry saw that dawn was a while away. Perhaps he could sneak into the library for some answers. Just as he was about to get out of bed, a shiver went through his entire body, hair rising on the back of his neck. A noise broke the relative quiet, one that stood starkly against the peaceful silence of the sleepy room. It was harsh, like air blowing rapidly through a small space. Harry realized it was someone breathing in short gasps, as though struggling to breathe. A slight whimper started to accompany it, and the increasing pitch sent another chill down Harry's spine.

Gathering his courage, Harry whipped around, gasping in shock at what he saw. A man stood near the edge of his bed, looking deathly ill. His gaunt face was a peculiar light-blue hue, and his green eyes were sunk into the thin, pale flesh that covered his skull, the eye sockets engulfing the emerald eyes in dark holes. The man's body was hidden beneath a long, baggy brown coat laced down the center, but he seemed to be quite thin.

"_Is this man Sirius Black? Has he finally come to finish the job he botched years ago?" _Harry thought. A rush of anger burst through Harry's veins, and he made to launch himself at the man who murdered his parents and poor Peter Pettigrew.

The man jumped back from Harry's bed with a startled cry, startling Harry as well. Harry stared at the man's eyes as they twitched about in a mad terror. Frightened, Harry scrambled for his wand, the man staggering away from him, arms flailing about in a pacifying manner. Feeling the familiar holly wood beneath his fingers, Harry lifted his wand and yelled, "Lumos!"

A white glow immediately illuminated. The strange man gasped but became still, staring intensely at the glowing wand, his breathing steading and his expression relaxing. _"No, is this was Sirius Black, he would've killed me then and there." _Still wary, Harry moved off the bed and onto the floor, watching as the man's eyes followed the light, his body swaying ever-so-slightly towards the wand.

Although the man had calmed down considerably, there was something… off about him that Harry couldn't place. As Harry moved closer to Ron's bed to wake him, he realized with a jolt that the man was transparent. This man was a ghost.

Still scared, but now curious, Harry looked the man in the eyes once more. The ghost did not seem to notice Harry, transfixed by the light Harry held. "_I wonder if this ghost can think properly," _Harry thought pensively. Worried, Harry decided that he had to get the man's attention first.

"Who are you?" Harry asked slowly.

Harry's voice shocked the man, and he flung himself backwards, breathing hitching again in panic. Harry just managed to catch the ghost's eye before he fled. The ghost yelped when he passed through the door, loudly enough to stir the other inhabitants of the room, but then the noise and the ghost were gone.

Ron rose slightly from his bed, all messy ginger hair and bleary eyes. He muttered, "Keep it down, Harry, and would you kindly turn off that bloody light?"

Harry extinguished his wand, and Ron gratefully thumped his head back down, easily resuming his slumber. Harry made his way back to his own bed, puzzled and to some extent nervous. Was this the omen Professor Trelawney read in his tea leaves? If death dd follow him, a ghost would fit the description perfectly.


	3. Dearly Departed

Harry awoke without a hitch. Yawning, he fumbled for his glasses, taking a moment to adjust his vision. A chill inexplicably went up his spine, and his head jerked about, his body reacting instinctively to the unknown presence. The memory of the previous night suddenly washed over his bleary mind, jogging his sleepy mind into gear.

Shoving the comforter off himself, he got out of bed with a plan. It was his second week during third year at Hogwarts, a school dedicated to the teaching of witchcraft and wizardry. With this new mystery presented to him, Harry wanted answers. Luckily, he knew just the person to ask.

Harry proceeded to put on his black robes, fit for his third year at Hogwarts. He had grown several centimeters over the summer, and that had meant new clothing for school The Dursleys had awarded him with more of Dudley's hand-me-downs. Those remained baggier than ever, perhaps even more so, since as Harry grew taller, Dudley had grown wider, and crueler. Thankfully, his parents' store of gold helped him acquire more than enough clothes for his return to school.

Glancing outside, Harry realized that neither of his friends would want to be disturbed at this hour. Hermione had seemed utterly spent recently, and he could hear Ron snoring soundly close by. He could wake Ron, but decided against it. One telling of this event would suffice. Harry could only hope they would not fret over him as they seemed prone to do after the Dementors raided the train and he had collapsed. "_That wasn't one of my greatest moments," _Harry thought, shuddering at the memory.

Quickly running his hand through his unruly black hair, Harry grabbed his wand and book bag and made his way down to the common room. His feet thumped loudly against the ancient wooden steps, despite the excellent care they had been given and the elegant crimson rug covering it. On the final step he leaped down to the floor, exhilarated by the rush of adrenaline.

The common looked as plain and endearing as when he had last left it to head for bed. Several candles were lit about the room, some sitting upon candelabras and others floating around, bumping off of the walls with soft ringing noises. Scanning the room, Harry saw a large, comfortable looking armchair with an unopened box of chocolate frogs sitting on the wooden table next to it. Thinking that he was having a turn of luck, Harry made his way towards the sweet, aiming to grab it and go. He was reaching for it when a chill went up his spine.

Harry spun around, wand out to deal with the intruder when his eyes went wide. . It was that strange ghost man, the one from last night. He was standing nervously, just outside the ring of light. The ghost s breathing in quick, frightened gasps, sending shivers up Harry's arms.

"I-I wouldn't t-touch that box, if I w-were you," the ghost stammered. Both he and Harry started when the ghost spoke, but Harry was unsure if it was a reaction to him jumping, or the ghost hearing his own voice. In any case, the statement hadn't sounded threatening, but more like advice, such as telling someone that, oh, touching that venomous snake might kill you.

"Who are you?" Harry asked curiously, advancing towards the ghost.

The ghost's eyes widened in horror, and he backed up rapidly into the shadows, hands wringing together as he stammered and mumbled, "I-err, I d-don't… Pl-please, I j-j-just can't…"

Shaking his head frantically, the ghost sobbed forcefully, and suddenly fled, giving a startled yelp when he went through the painting that served as the entryway into Gryffindor common room. Harry was puzzled, but decided that an investigation could wait until his friends had risen, and after breakfast.

Harry was surprised to find that he was the first to breakfast. He was the only student present.

The Great Hall itself stretched forth in its magnificence. Banners from each house hung with a flourish above the four house tables. The wood the tables were made from was polished to a fine degree, and not one speck of dust covered the area. The tables were also laden with food from around the world, all suited to morning delights. Harry thought, "_I bet Dudley would make himself sick from eating everything in sight," _before sitting down to eat and wait for his friends to arrive, itching to tell them of this new development.

Despite the warmth from the heated food and the students milling about, a strange chill seemed to be following Harry.

Harry heard his friends coming before they arrived. Their arrival was announced by raucous laughter, and the whole of Gryffindor walked into the hall. Fred and George led the pack, Fred blowing out his cheeks and waddling about, making high-pitched squeaking noises, followed by the crowing laughter of the crowd.

Ron and Hermione spotted Harry and broke off from the crowd. Ron was near hysterics, snorting laughter and doubling over. Hermione balanced Ron's mirth. Her lips were pursed in obvious disapproval, and Harry could see she was glaring at the hysterical Gryffindors out of the corner of her eye, including Ron.

"Blimey, Harry, you should have seen what-what happened to Neville-!" Ron wheezed before bursting into a cacophony of laughter.

"Really, _Ronald, _it wasn't _funny _at all. In fact, it was cruel and stupid, and I wouldn't be surprised if those two got expelled," Hermione snapped, seating herself on the opposite of the table.

Ron sobered slightly at Hermione's statement, but he was grinning when he saw Harry's confusion. "Neville happened to be caught up in one of Fred and George's "experiments". He-" Ron snickered a bit, but upon seeing Hermione's glare continued. "He ate a chocolate frog or something and he _ballooned. _Oh, it was great! His voice got all high-pitched and squeaky, he woke _everyone _up_,_ and he was-"

"He was calling for help, Ron, and there's nothing humorous about that," Hermione practically spat, and Ron frowned back at her.

Harry shuffled in his seat a bit before attempting to break the tension. "So, what happened after everyone found him? Did he get any help?"

Hermione stopped glaring and replied curtly, "Yes. Fred and George took it upon themselves to help Neville. They changed him back to normal, but everyone is still laughing about it, and Neville doesn't deserve to be teased even more."

Ron huffed and said, "Well, now that we know it works, maybe they can trick Malfoy into eating one. That would be bloody brilliant!"

Harry smiled at the thought. Teasing Neville was cruel, but knocking the school bully down a peg or two would be fantastic. "I think getting Malfoy, Crabbe _and _Goyle would be marvelous, especially if they ate it at the same time."

Ron's eyes widened with surprise at the thought, and a laugh burst from him. "That'd be brilliant!"

Hermione reluctantly agreed, a smile tugging at her lips, and the three tucked into their morning meal.

After breakfast was finished, the students milling about began to disperse to their morning classes. Just as Harry set down his fork, preparing to tell the two about his nightly capers, Hermione nodded a farewell before dashing off to her first class. Harry shared a look with Ron before they trudged off towards their Divination class. As they left through the large oak doors, a shiver went down Harry's spine. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of bluish white before the figure disappeared.

Panting, sides heaving and a stitch forming somewhere above hi kidney, Harry staggered in after Ron. The fumes of the classroom washed over him, a thick, suffocating blanket of nauseous perfumes and heat. Struggling to catch his breath, he plopped down onto one of the pillows scattered about the room just as Professor Trelawney billowed into the room.

With a breathy sigh, Trelawney seemed to float over to Harry, her visage growing darker as she lightly brushed his shoulder before announcing ominously to the class, "Today we will be using the crystal ball to divine each other's future. This will be a test to see if you truly have the gift. You may begin when you feel the power move within you. Please try to make it move quickly, as we only have this hour to divine, and the mind's eye tends to get cluttered as the day wears on. Nonetheless. Begin!" With a flourish, she set off to her own seat, where she could gaze over the class like an owl, eyes peering behind her large glasses.

Parvati and Lavender instantly uncovered their crystal ball, a medium-sized blue sphere. They kept giving Harry sympathetic looks, and Harry frowned before looking back to his and Ron's table. "It's like they expect me to drop dead any minute," he said to Ron, who nodded whilst rolling his eyes at the girls.

On the first day back to school, Harry and Ron arrived late to class. As it turned out, being late was the least of Harry's worries. Trelawney had immediately whisked over to him and proclaimed him a dead man walking, backed up by a mess of sloppy tea leaves that looked like "the Grim". Parvati and Lavender had been among those who completely believed the quirky professor, and they had been giving Harry strange looks ever since.

Others had not been so gullible. Hermione instantly proclaimed Trelawney rubbish, and after a few days of being told she did not have "the gift" she had gladly dropped the class. Despite shocking Harry and Ron (and all of Gryffindor), she firmly believed that divination was a waste of time, time much better devoted to Muggle Studies.

Seating himself upon the purple cushion, Ron grabbed the silky purple cloth covering the ball and unveiled it. Someone gasped behind Harry, and a shiver went down his spine. Harry twisted about, and he caught a glimpse of blue before it disappeared. He turned back to Ron, who was gazing at the ball intently, and asked, "Did you hear that?"

Ron nodded absentmindedly, transfixed by the swirling mass inside the ball. "Yeah, that was you, wasn't it?"

Harry negated this with a shake of his head, and the red-head shrugged. Harry sighed before asking, "Would you like to divine my future first?"

Ron nodded, and gripped the crystal ball with two hands and holding it away from his face, as if he expected it to lunge at him. Peering at the sphere, he slowly began to "divine".

"W-well, it looks like you're going to deal with a lot of mist in the future. Watch out for that when you're playing Quidditch. And, er, well, uh, wait, th-there's… Whoa."

The crystal ball had started glowing intensely, throwing bright bands of light about the room. The shadows around the room began to distort, monstrous shapes looming in the dark, and someone screamed in fright. The ball darkened and a faint red light appeared in the center. Harry stared atb the crimson light as it began to engulf the bright blue light on the outer rim, tendrils of red spreading about the ball. A sense of horror permeated the room, and for a second Harry glanced about the room.

The faces staring back at him looked ghastly in the red glow, and their eyes were darkness highlighted by white beads of light. As he gazed at each face, one unexpectedly appeared to him that stood out from the others. The face did not reflect the horrific red light, and the eyes were two green orbs that were staring, horrified, at the orb. Harry jolted when he realized who it was, but before he could act, Trelawney covered the orb with a silk cloth and the apparition vanished.

Trelawney was panting, her hands quivering as she stared down at Harry. The room was colder now, icy compared to the suffocating warmth they had walked into. The silence stretched on for a while, broken only by the rasping gasps coming from Trelawney and a vague sniffling. Trelawney arched her back, and rasped, "This was a sign. A-a very terrible, ominous sign for things to come. Harry P-"

Trelawney stopped in mid-sentence, and Harry heard the same person from earlier gasp and a whimper peeped from Parvati. Harry and Ron watched in horror as Trelawney began to gasp and shudder, her eyes twitching and jerking about in spasms. She gasped, her mouth gaping wide before letting out a screech, and she fell to the ground.

"She's having a seizure!" someone wailed, and Harry leapt to his feet, scrambling over to the collapsed heap that was his teacher. He reached for her, about to tell someone to call for Madame Pomfrey when Trelawney suddenly shot her arm out from under her clothes and latched onto Harry's arm.

Her hand dug into Harry's arm, the elongated fingernails digging into the fabric of his sleeve. Slowly, she rose, head bowed. Harry felt a twinge of fear, but he was rooted to the spot, both by Trelawney and by his urge to make sure she was safe. Suddenly, she jolted her head up, the curly, tangled mess falling over her face. However, it didn't hide her face completely, and Harry's heart clenched upon seeing her expression.

The usually calm, passive if somewhat spaced-out woman had a large, maniacal grin spread across her face, her pupils dilated and her eyebrows narrowed in a sort of rage. A laugh escaped her, and she started muttering, yet Harry couldn't make out the words. She snarled and shoved him forward. Harry staggered and would have fallen had the deranged professor not been clinging to him.

Gripping Harry with both hands, she pushed him, and they made their way to the trap door, when she stopped and began speaking coherently. However, hearing what Trelawney had to say only made the gripping terror worse.

"You're not innocent, _are_ you? No, you're not. _I'm _innocent, you murderer, _I'm_ the one who needs to be saved, _I'm the one it's after!"_

Tears were forming in the woman's eyes, and she angrily wiped them away before speaking softly again in a rising crescendo. "This is the only way, you must understand. _I'm _not the murderer, I don't _deserve_ death, n-not now, _not ever._ You must be purged from God's pure earth, Alexander said so. P-paint the man, cut the lines…"

Abruptly, Trelawney was grinning again, and she removed her right hand from Harry's shoulder. Screaming, "PAINT THE MAN, _CUT THE THE FLESH__**, WATCH THE BLOOD SPILL!"**_ over and over again in a sing-song voice, she stabbed at Harry. The first punch drove the air out of his lungs, and the second sent him to his knees. People were screaming and shouting, but Harry could barely see through blurred eyes.

Despite the bursts of pain, Harry managed to shove himself backwards, away from the crazed teacher, and as quickly as she had descended into madness she stopped. Gasping, the world misty behind his tears, Harry saw a bluish figure standing over an unconscious Trelawney. The man looked at him, and Harry recognized the ghost from earlier, the gaunt face and the green eyes. He also realized that the ghost was crying, much as Myrtle did, the brighter "liquid" obscuring the blue ghost's face before dripping into nothingness. The man saw Harry staring, and the ghostly man said something Harry couldn't hear before throwing himself out the door.

Taking a deep breath, Harry rose to his feet, glad that they didn't betray his frayed nerves. Stepping down, the noise startled the students, and they stared at Harry like deer caught in headlights. He walked over to Trelawney, but this time he reached inside the soft fabric of his robe and pulled out his wand. Emboldened by the added means of protection, he strode towards the downed professor and halted.

Glancing towards Ron, he beckoned his friend over. Shaking himself, Ron stood up and hustled over to Harry, eyeing the motionless heap warily. Harry nodded to him and, with Ron following his lead, Harry grabbed Trelawney's right arm and they pulled her up off the ground. The professor groaned, and Harry kept his wand pointed steadily at her as she woke from her unconsciousness.

Almost instantly Harry knew Trelawney was back to normal, or as normal as she'd ever be. Trelawney looked confused as she opened her eyes, blinking owlishly as she stared about the room. She asked hesitantly, eyes wide and nervous, "What… What happened just now? Was I… Did I faint?"

Harry and Ron shared a look, and Harry replied, "Yeah, professor, you, er, suffered a bit of heat stroke. Ron and I were just making sure you were okay."

Trelawney was still blinking owlishly, and Harry could feel his muscles straining as they supported her limp weight. Without warning she asked, "Why is your wand pointed at me, Potter?"

Harry started and hastily pocketed his wand, blushing lightly in embarrassment as he replied, "Oh, well, I just wanted to, er, make sure you were okay. I was…" Harry's train of thought derailed and left his mind blank, and he stood there gaping when Ron jumped to his rescue.

"He was going to cast a healing spell, s'all." Ron grinned for a moment before realizing it was a rather grave situation, and the smile beat a hasty retreat.

Trelawney finally found her feet, and Harry, with Ron's help, moved her onto a chair. Trelawney collapsed into it, and Harry heard her mutter, "Why can't I remember anything?" before the bell rang, signaling the end of this period. Harry couldn't get out of there fast enough, and neither could the others as they all crowded through the trapdoor in their haste to escape the chamber. Harry glanced back at the bewildered Trelawney before feeling the already forming bruises on his stomach. After that he nearly fought the other students to escape.

As they descended the stairs, Harry thought about what had happened, and what that ghost had to do with it. "_Was the vision Trelawney had of the future…Or of this strange ghost's past?"_

**Author's Note: **I seem to have more luck making the the odd numbered chapters longer =) Anyways, this chapter was the one bogging chapter two's release. I like to be one ahead before I release any new material, I suppose. I just wanted to say that I truly appreciate the reviews given to me, and I would adore some critique or questions if you have any. I don't bite..._  
_

So, review or message me! I'd love to know your thoughts, and whether or not I should change something, especially if I'm characterizing someone horribly, like Ron, Hermione, or even Harry. I won't know if you don't tell me ;) I hope you enjoyed your summer! See you next time~


	4. Of Wings and Identities

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry for such a late chapter post! I didn't mean for it to take this long, but school has been a bit tough lately, what with the dreadful essays and amazingly elaborate projects I had to do. I don't really have an excuse, and this chapter probably won't satisfy (it very well may be my _least _favorite chapter), but it works for what it is.

Thank you so much to all those who reviewed! Without those reviews, well, this chapter would never have made the cut. And thank you to ChaosandMayhem! Your epic review seriously made my day, and anyone who has not heard of this lovely author better go read it. Maybe not now, but you know ;)

Thanks for sticking with me, and without further ado, on with the chapter! Oh, and the chapter title is a reference to the other Amnesia/Harry Potter crossovers. ;)

**Disclaimer: The characters involved belong to FrictionalGames and J.K. Rowling. For all intents and purposes, this story will never be sold for profit. That is all.**

Harry sighed. Today was not looking good for him. The other students kept looking at him with wide, horrified eyes, and it was more than annoying. The gossip had spread through the entire school like wildfire. Even the ghosts were talking about it, and apparently Moaning Myrtle had actually come out of her bathroom stall to whisper wet rumors in peoples' ears (much to their displeasure). It didn't help that the Grim was still seared in people's minds, or that Sirius Black was on the loose. Now everyone seemed to think Harry would drop dead at the slightest touch.

Rubbing the bruises on his stomach and wincing, Harry sat down next to Ron at the Gryffindor table. Bowls and plates were laid out all along the table. Bread was set out next to neatly sliced and stacked luncheon meat, assorted condiments surrounding the bread. Soups at steaming in the center, small cards laid out before each metallic pot, labeled in dainty, cursive handwriting.

Grabbing a bowl, Harry decided to be on the safe side, avoiding the soup pot labeled "Frog-Eye" and instead ladling out a serving of chicken-noodle soup. The soup was unlike the canned variety the Dursleys rarely allowed him to have. It was thicker, the broth rich with spices and perfectly cooked noodles. Bits of chicken were easily distinguished by their pinkish flesh, and Harry had been pleasantly surprised when he saw that they weren't cube shaped.

Grabbing a pre-made sandwich, Harry faced Ron as he started to eat. His friend was glancing about, anxiously looking from one entrance to the other, and Harry guessed what his friend was doing.

"You're looking for Hermione, aren't you?"

Ron nodded, hunching over slightly as he bit through his own sandwich. The ginger haired boy glanced back up at Harry, swallowed guiltily, and replied, "Yeah. I wanted to talk to her about, well, you know..." Ron nodded towards Harry's stomach and glanced over his shoulder, shuddering slightly.

Harry nodded his agreement. "I was thinking the same thing. Maybe Hermione knows something about hauntings and visions. Whatever happened today, I don't think it was Professor Trelawney's fault." Harry gulped down a spoonful of soup, savoring its slightly smoky taste.

"Yeah, I don't think even she has such a… vivid imagination," Ron and Harry both shuddered as they watched Neville ladle bright red tomato soup into his bowl.

"No," Harry said. "No, it was definitely caused by that weird ghost…" Harry trailed off, not entirely sure Ron had seen him, considering no one had heard the basilisk. To his great relief, Ron concurred, a horrified expression on his face.

"Oh, mate, that guy looked bloody mad. If that's related to the Grim, I would _not _be surprised." Ron shuddered, grabbing a chocolate muffin and biting into it, crumbs scattering over his robe.

Harry finished his sandwich and was about to finish up his soup when the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. Shivering, Harry looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened at what he saw. Nudging Ron, Harry pointed as casually as possible just over his shoulder. Harry nodded when Ron looked questioningly at him, before looking to where Harry was pointing to. Immediately, Ron gasped and turned back, whispering in a harsh, rushed voice, "Bloody Hell, he's standing right there!"

The ghost was standing just outside the large oaken door leading into the Great Hall. He was awkwardly floating there, avoiding contact with curious students by shuffling into the wall. Each time, however, he would meander back to the doorway. As Harry watched the strange man, an idea struck him. Turning to Ron, who was scowling at the ghost, Harry asked, "Do you think he's trying to contact me?"

Ron looked startled, but he did consider it for a moment. He then shrugged his shoulders and said, "Beats me. If he did, why wouldn't he just come up to you and ask?"

Harry frowned, as he had no answer to that, and turned back towards the wayward ghost. The man looked terrified about being out in the open. Even from such a large distance, Harry could see the man's hand trembling, arms clenched about his midsection as if to protect himself from getting beaten. He was a twitchy fellow, jolting every time someone passed by and greeted him. The ghost also appeared to be debating with whether or not to come into the Great Hall, pacing back and forth in front of the door. He didn't look dangerous so much as …lost.

"I don't think he wants to hurt me," Harry told Ron decisively. "I think he is really confused, and frightened for some reason. I'm gonna go try to speak with him."

Ron sputtered on the water he was drinking. He yelped, "Are you-?!" before realizing the ghost could probably hear him, and quickly modifying it to a subdued, whispered, "Are you mad? That ghost is crazed! You heard what Trelawney jabbered on about, all that "paint the man" nonsense. This seems a bit over our heads, Harry."

Harry frowned and snapped, "Getting murdered is a bit over anyone's head, Ron. The least we can do is attempt to help."  
With that, Harry pushed the chair back, the loud scraping noise drawing Neville's and Seamus' attention for a moment. They watched as Harry walked hastily to the door before returning to their meals.

The ghost saw Harry coming several meters away. His face blanched further, but he did not outright run away. Instead, the ghost began to casually back away, hesitating and lingering just long enough for Harry to reach him. There they stood, or in one case floated, both nervous and apprehensive at their peculiar meeting. Harry broke the silence first.

"Who are you?"

The ghost was immediately on edge, and Harry could have sworn a cold sheen of sweat had broken out on the ghost's forehead. However, the man did not flee as he had last time. He seemed to puff himself up, and was about to answer when a cold, malicious and audibly _sneering_ voice cut through the air, "Potter! Talking to the not-so walking dead, I see. I'm surprised this hasn't happened sooner."

Draco Malfoy was sneering as he approached, his bulky "bodyguards" Crabbe and Goyle hanging off to his left and right, their fat faces twisted in cruel smirks. Harry scowled, and saw that the ghost was petrified, staring not at Malfoy, but at Crabbe.

Wanting to get it over with, Harry snapped, "_Why_, Malfoy?"

Malfoy smirked, and Harry had the ominous feeling that he had played right into Malfoy's ploy just a bit too late. "Well, Potter, since you're bound to die soon, I'm glad to see that you've managed to take the initiative to chat up your peers-to-be!"

Harry barely heard the gasp that sounded behind him over the blood rushing in his ears. Nearly snarling, Harry called back, over the snorting laughter issuing from Malfoy and his gang, "Malfoy, you are a sick, cruel little coward. You'll never amount to more than a bully and a scheming rat."

Malfoy's blue eyes narrowed, the laughter dying on his lips as he proceeded to glare at Harry. Crabbe and Goyle both stopped chuckling, lumbering forward and pulling themselves up and preparing to fight when Malfoy held up a hand, stopping them. A savage sneer malformed his features.

"Oh. Have I hit a nerve, Potter? On the subject of the dead, it's a shame I couldn't have seen your parents death myself. I've heard your mother was quite the screamer."

Harry's mouth went slack at what Malfoy had just said. The trio of bullies laughed heartily, but Harry was still flabbergasted when a blur whirled past. In a second, Ron had Malfoy pinned. The blond didn't even have time to struggle before Ron slugged him in the face. Harry leaped forward, yanking his best friend off the sadistic bully.

Ron screamed, "You bloody git! I bet your mother doesn't even…!" Harry smothered Ron's mouth before he could finish his most likely dirty comment.

Harry dragged the raging red-head away from the brawl, watching for a moment as Malfoy made a flourish of getting up. He wiped the blood off his nose before glaring, "harrumphing", and striding away, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels. Ron muttered something about" wankering Slytherins", but he managed to calm down. Harry could feel himself seething, but he suddenly recalled what he had planned to do. Turning, he looked to the spot he had last seen the ghost, but he was sorely disappointed.

The ghost was gone.

…...

The weather outside the castle was gray and dreary. What made it worse was that Gryffindors and Slytherins were having their first class of "Care of Magical Creatures" together. Needless to say, the mood for Hagrid's first lesson was less than ideal.

"All right, then, 'ave you all gotten yer books ready?" Hagrid bellowed heartily over the class, beaming and clapping his hands thunderously together as he trudged through the muds towards them.

Malfoy sneered and drawled, "Oh, yes, the books that try to bite your face off. I' m surprised no one has sued you before this class even started."

Ron muttered to Harry, "It's a shame it didn't bite Malfoy's face off, it might have done wonders to his looks."

Harry snickered, and Hermione responded with a sigh and a roll of her brown eyes. Harry stopped snickering and eyed her worriedly. She hadn't arrived at lunch as he and Ron had hoped for, and she seemed even more exhausted than before. Harry was less sure he wanted to worry her further by placing his own grievances on her over-burdened shoulders.

Harry decided to ignore Malfoy's chuckling, and grabbed his own copy of "A Monster Book of Monsters", which was stuffed in a dirty old sock. Harry was relieved to see that everyone else had done the same thing to their books. Neville had wrapped a large rubber band about his , Ron had tied his tightly with rope, and even Hermione had bundled it with what looked to be yarn. Malfoy was holding his by a long, black belt, firmly tightened over the ferocious book.

Hagrid had noticed the struggling books, and he asked, his initial volume toned down, "'Asn't anyone figgered out 'ow ter calm 'em?"

Malfoy gave a bark of laughter and drawled, "And I had hoped you weren't as blind as you are stupid. Can't you see that with your own beady little eyes?" The blond bully was enjoying this far too much.

Hagrid's lagging confidence burst, and he mumbled, "Yeh jus' 'ave to stroke 'em along th' spine. I though' they were kinda funny meself…"

Harry did just that, and the struggling, snarling book seemed to purr and retract into itself, relaxing in his hands. The other students followed suit, and Harry saw Hermione immediately throw her's open, muttering something about being behind on reading. Ron didn't even attempt to read his. The red-head glared intently at Malfoy, as though he could spontaneously combust the blond with his eyes. Considering the magical world they all lived in, Harry wouldn't be surprised if it did happen.

Hagrid was mumbling something, unsure about what to do next, and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the giant man. Hagrid had been the first man…er, well, half-giant half-man to find Harry and introduce him to the world of magic. The large man was covered in scruffy, curly black hair and beard that shrouded his eyes and head. He was always wearing a big fur coat, made of multiple critters, which Harry assumed Hagrid had made himself. Whilst large and intimidating, the man was kind and gentle at heart, always willing to give a bit of himself to any ailing creature, and in one case, it turned out to be a dragon.

As it were, Hagrid's first session was not going smoothly, especially with the Slytherins snickering over his misery and the Gryffindors staring at him miserably.

"It's fine, Hagrid. I thought they were funny, too, and it would have been even better if one had gotten a mouthful of Malfoy," Harry assured Hagrid, stepping forward.

Harry could feel Malfoy shooting daggers at his back, but Hagrid cheered up immensely, and he roared out, "Well, we won't be usin' the books much anyways. Consider this yer outdoors class! Now, follow me, and you'll meet yer first assignment."

The class trudged after Hagrid, some jogging to keep up with the man's massive and over-eager stride. They turned around the corner of Hagrid's cottage and a gasp rippled through the assembled students. Harry peered over his classmates heads and barely stifled his own gasp of shock.

There, milling about in a paddock made of ramshackle wood, was a flock of some of the strangest beings Harry had ever seen. At first he thought it was a herd of horses, which had mildly surprised Harry since horses were mundane and clearly not magical. However, when one of the creatures raised it's head, Harry saw with a start that its entire front half looked like a very large eagle. Shining gray beaks adorned each creatures face, and large, bright golden eyes gleamed dangerously above the sharp beaks. Each beast had a thick collar about its feathered neck that linked to the fence by a large, wrought iron chain.

"There they are! Aren' they beau'iful?" Hagrid bellowed, grinning at the class, his black eyes crinkling.

The creatures were irritably pulling at their leashes, some stretching their vast wing span and attempting to fly before being yanked back to the ground with a squawk. Nearby, Malfoy snorted and remarked, "Oh, sure. They're almost as scruffy as you are."

Malfoy's comment had a startling ripple effect. Each horse-bird screeched, wrenching their heads about violently, lunging forcefully at their restraints to get at Malfoy, who's already pale face had gone exceedingly white. Hagrid bellowed at the struggling beasts, reaching into a bucket and tossing a dead weasel into the midst of the upset animals.

Once the animals were calm, Hagrid stared at Malfoy and growled in a dangerously low voice, "Malfoy, you ough'n mock a Hippogriff. They don' take near as kind ter insul's as I do." By the look on Hagrid's face, he didn't take kindly to insults either.

"So… What yeh need ter do ter gain their tru' is ter look 'em in the eye an' bow for 'em. Their lot is proud creatures, and as wi' all magical bein's, yeh must show 'em respect. An' don' be blinkin' when yeh bow, makes yeh seem untrus'worthy. Who wan's to 'ave a go?" Hagrid slapped his meaty palms together, looking about the crowd. No one moved a muscle, and Harry gave Hermione and Ron a look. All three stepped forward.

"There we go! Now all yeh need ter do is ge' in there an' bow!" Hagrid roared jovially, beaming at the trio. Neither Hermione nor Ron seemed particularly eager, so Harry took the plunge and was about to go through the wooden gate when a high-pitche squealing noise penetrated the dreary afternoon.

The whole class was just as confused as Harry, looking about and muttering in confusion. Malfoy, along with Crabbe and Goyle, were laughing.

Deciding that it was probably Lavender or Parvati, Harry sighed and was about to move in when a high-pitched falsetto voice cried out in alarm, "That doesn't seem like a great idea!"

All of the students glanced back towards the rear of the group, but no one stepped forward. Harry felt the sting of annoyance, trying in vain to see past the students. The sun took that moment to burst through the cloud cover, dazzling the gathered students and obscuring the speaker further.

"I agree," a baritone voice suddenly barked, a meter or so away from where the higher voice had come from. "Those… monsters look like they could take a chunk out of you!"

"I concur!" the tinny voice piped up a few seconds after. "Clearly, the best idea would be to go home, grab some piping hot tea, and maybe write a journal entry about the horrible possibility of being eaten by a Hippogriff."

Harry could see Hagrid getting a bit ruffled by this strange, shapeless voice, and Harry felt miffed himself. One of the Hippogriffs squawked, eliciting a squeak from the voice.

"See! Er-hrrm, see?!" for a moment the higher voice had broken, and Harry suspected that the voices were being played by one person.

With a start, Harry thought, _"Wait. What if it's that ghost? He did seem a bit cowardly. Maybe… Maybe I can draw him out if I do this!"_

With that thought in mind, Harry unlatched the gate and strode into the pen. Hagrid was slightly startled, but he was soon beaming again.

"Well done, Harry, 'specially in th' face uh all tha' discouragemen'," Hagrid barked, slapping Harry on the back and sending him stumbling towards the Hippogriffs.

The Hippogriffs were startled by the action and they started, jumping and screeching whilst attempting to fly, until the large leashes tethering them to the fence snapped them back to earth. A queer feeling settled in Harry's stomach, and he did his best to ignore it as large, furious golden eyes lingered over his own.

Hagrid was not to be put off by the creatures anger, and he waved Harry towards the calmest one, a large silvery gray steed.

"Now, the key ter bein' friend wi' a Hippogriff is always havin' respect. Jus' walk up ter 'im… See, 'e's watchin' yeh, 'Arry! Jus' walk up ter 'im and bow, and yer set!"

Harry tried not to show his fear as he approached the beast. A strange crackling noise went off behind him, as though someone was biting his or her nails furiously. A shiver went up Harry's spine at the thought. Not daring to look away from the large yellow orbs of the Hippogriff, Harry bowed before the beast.

Seconds ticked by, and Harry heard Hagrid say nervously, "Now Buckbeak, tha's the Hippogriff, should be bowin' back any secon' now… Harry, yeh migh' wanna back up a bi'…"

Finally, Buckbeak nodded slightly and dipped down on his scaly, yellow front leg in an elegant bow. Hagrid whooped and bellowed, "Go on and pet 'im, 'Arry!"

Harry slowly raised his hand, walking steadily towards the creature with his hand outstretched. Buckbeak lowered his head and came forward, putting his forehead into Harry's hand. Harry grinned and began to stroke the feathered head, and the Hippogriff rolled into the rhythm of his petting, a soft trilling noise gurgling in his throat. Harry felt a feeling of serenity ease through him.

Hagrid's loud stomping threw the moment off, Hagrid whooping and roaring, "Well, now yeh can ride 'im, I bet! Go ahead, hop on 'im and go fer a ride!"

Harry felt a brief feeling of startled confusion as he was unexpectedly lifted off, but before he could object he was thumped on Buckbeak's back.

Harry had a second to find his balance before Hagrid unchained the only thing keeping Harry and Buckbeak on the ground, saying, "Now, wha'ever yeh do, don' hang on 'Is feathers, 'e won' like tha', and let 'im do the work! Now go on!"

With that said, Hagrid smacked Buckbeak on the hindquarters, earning a squawk from him, and then Harry felt the beast moving quickly beneath him. The strange skin of the beast, melding from horse into eagle seamlessly, rolled beneath Harry, and when the twelve-foot wings erupted from Buckbeak's sides Harry nearly fell off.

For a moment Harry thought he heard a shriek from somewhere behind him, but the sudden rushing air and thundering flapping Buckbeak's wings were making drowned out any other sound he could hear. Buckbeak sprang into the air, and Hagrid's call of alarm did nothing to deter the beast from soaring upwards. With a start, Harry realized Buckbeak was flying at top speeds towards the Forbidden Forest.

Clinging on the creature's neck, Harry watched the other students scamper about, Hagrid waving his arms wildly, and the other Hippogriffs cawing and screeching. All of it was growing steadily smaller, shrinking as Buckbeak sped away. Belatedly, Harry wondered if he could control Buckbeak.

The earth below was soon engulfed in dark trees, packed together so closely that they seemed to make a lush green fur, carpeting a gigantic beast below. Considering the nature of the forest, Harry would be unsurprised if the forest was literally alive. The smells of the forest seemed to billow into the air, and Harry could smell the mold of the forest floor, the sharp, refreshing tang of the trees, and the musky stench of creatures unknown.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something blue dashing up to him. Harry turned his head and squinted, his eyes bugging out for a moment and he lurched to the side, dragging Buckbeak's head with him, barely avoiding the bluish blur that whooshed by and startling Buckbeak in the process. It sped dashed out in front of him, back-pedaled abruptly, and came rushing back towards Harry and Buckbeak.

It slowed as it approached them, and Harry heard someone gasp, "My God, boy, you nearly made me faint! And I thought that one monster was horrible. I suppose I never imagined one that could carry you away like that. My God…"

As the blueish man approached, Harry recognized him instantly. Squeezing Buckbeak lightly, Harry jolted when Buckbeak responded by speeding towards the ghost, wings thrumming through the air rapidly and his neck straining forward. Using his newfound advantage of speed, Harry urged Buckbeak forward, calling out, "Who are you?!"

The man, now much closer thanks to Buckbeak's fast flying, gaped like a fish out of water before darting to Harry's left. Harry groaned, when an idea struck him. Reaching down to Buckbeak's neck, He grabbed the rope attached there. With a grim frown, Harry called out, "Buckbeak! Left!", yanking the rope to the left as well.

Buckbeak responded immediately, squawking and jerking to the left, nearly throwing Harry off in the process, forcing him to scramble to grasp Buckbeak's sleek feathers. Thrilled that he was no longer a lost cause, Harry guided Buckbeak further to the left until he spotted the ghost, who was hesitantly floating several meters away. With Buckbeak's wings pumping steadily, Harry urged his mount forward, charging at the ghost.

The ghost was quick and easily maneuvered away. Harry swiftly turned Buckbeak, calling out the direction and pulling the beast towards the ghost. Soon, with the wind rushing past his ears, and the sun casting the world in light, chasing the ghost became a sort of game; the ghost twisting this way and that, Harry and Buckbeak swerving around him. At times, Harry would overshoot and fly over and past the ghost, much to his dismay. Soon, however, the ghost would fly back in front, and Harry never really realized where they were headed until he saw Hagrid's cottage below them.

Grinning, a peculiar notion in his mind, Harry slowed Buckbeak down until they were hovering above the cottage. Turning to face the ghost, Harry stared him straight in the eyes and asked, "What is your name?"

The ghost hesitated for a moment before smiling nervously and saying quietly, "I… I don't remember much because I took some sort of… amnesia drink. But, I think my name is… I am Daniel."

The ghost, named Daniel, glanced down at the ground for a moment. Shaking himself, Daniel smiled and floated over to Harry, holding out his hand. Harry thought it was a rather funny gesture, seeing as how ghosts couldn't physically touch things, but he smiled back and "grabbed" the proffered hand, feeling a cold shiver go up his spine as he replied, "Harry Potter."


	5. Strange Happenings

Hagrid called loudly for Buckbeak, waving what looked like a dead rat in the air. The students were panicked, some crying and others yelling at each other to find help. Neville looked like he was going to faint, all the blood drained from his round face. Malfoy, on the other hand, was sauntering about, gloating about how he had known the beasts were dangerous. They were all shocked when Harry, astride Buckbeak, landed in their mist.

Harry's landing was immediately followed by jovial cries from the crowd.

"You're not dead!"

"That's bloody brilliant!"

"See! They're righ' beau'ies, they are! I knew ye'd get back all righ', 'Arry."

Harry grinned as the students gathered around him. When the chatter didn't die down, Buckbeak squawked irritably, shaking his wings in frustration. Seeing his mount's discomfort, Harry announced, "Well, I think I'd like to get down now."

Hagrid laughed and strode over, the crowd hurriedly parting to avoid getting stepped on. Gripping Harry under his armpits with his huge, meaty hands, Hargid hoisted him up and off of Buckbeak as easily as a regular person would lift up a doll. When he set Harry down on the ground pain shot up Harry's legs. He grunted, and when he tried to straighten them the pain burned up his thighs.

The class was watching Harry struggle, and Malfoy laughed. "Look at that, Potter's sore after his first time. So that's why American cowboys walk bow-legged," Malfoy drawled with a sneer and the other Slytherins hooted at his crude joke.

Harry felt an urge to punch Malfoy in the face, but the twinge in his legs said otherwise. Gritting his teeth, Harry waddled over to Hermione and Ron, massaging his pained limbs. Neville rushed over to them, relief plain on his face. He was sweating, his face moist and his hair damp.

"Oh, Harry, that-that hip…that thing didn't try to eat you or anything? I mean, it wasn't taking you back to it's…it's lair?" Neville squeaked, brown eyes darting to glance at Buckbeak as the beast followed Hagrid back to the herd before quickly glancing back at Harry.

Harry gave him a reassuring smile and replied, "No, Neville. Buckbeak just wanted to stretch his wings, I think."

Neville smiled back, and Ron butted in with, "But that was bloody brilliant! Do you think Hagrid will let the rest of us ride them?"

Hermione snorted and said, "Ron, Harry could've fallen off and died! Or, worse yet, he could've been trapped in the Forbidden Forest, injured and alone. Harry, how _did _you manage to get back? You and Buckbeak were long gone in thirty seconds."

Harry gathered his thoughts before replying haltingly, "Well, I…I didn't find my way back by myself, so to speak. This may sound weird, but Ron? Do you remember that man that appeared when Trelawney had her, er, fit?"

Hermione and Neville looked completely lost. Ron narrowed his eyes in thought as he tried to recall. His eyebrows shot up suddenly, and he gasped in shock and asked, "Did you have a fit, too?! Wa-was the Grimm trying to take you away?!"

Harry mentally face-palmed and replied, "No, Ron, that's not it at all. That same ghost followed me out there, "Harry waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the forest, "and then guided me back here."

Ron gasped again, but Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she asked, "Harry, how would a man be able to keep up with a hippogriff? Also, why haven't you told me about this business with Trelawney?!"

Harry and Ron glanced at each other guiltily, and Neville hustled off whistling (or attempting to whistle) nonchalantly. Hermione huffed, saying, "I mean, I've heard the rumors before you even told me and I thought we shared everything…"

Ron intervened, "We're really sorry, Hermione, but you've been busy, and we have tried getting to you, but, Yeah, we've been jerks."

Hermione relaxed slightly, and she grinned a bit as she said, At least you're honest jerks."

They grinned, and Hermione asked, "So, how was it possible for this man to lead you back, Harry?"

Harry replied, "He's actually a ghost, so he just sort of flew after me, I guess. After we came back, he finally told me his name. He called himself Daniel."

Ron's eyes widened in horror, but Hermione frowned. "Finally? Did you ask him before and he said, 'Sorry! I can't tell you right now, but I'll get back to you!'? That seems rather suspicious."

Harry shrugged, but it did seem rather unnerving and a shiver went up his spine. Shaking off the strange feeling, he explained, "The other two times were rather awkward and he seems to be really skittish and paranoid."

Hermione's frown deepened and she said, "You better tell us what happened."

Harry told them about the other close encounters. Hermione was especially interested in the dream Harry had. Before they could properly discuss, a ring sounded over the green hills from the large, looming castle, signaling the end of class. The three hurried over to Hagrid as he roared out that night's assignment, "… An' then we'll practice on 'em tomorrow. 'Ave a nice day!"

The students hustled, or in Malfoy's case sauntered, up to the castle. Harry hurried over to Hagrid, who grinned as he saw the three come over.

"Thanks a bunch, 'Arry, I 'ppreciate it. I 'ope we get the other students in th' air, too." Hagrid grinned broadly, his black eyes twinkling.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged skeptical looks, and Hermione asked, "Hagrid, would you kindly repeat tonight's assignment?"

Hagrid looked bemused. He laughed and replied, "I though' I'd never see th' day Hermione missed a night's homework! I can do tha' for yeh. Jus' read from th' book abou' hippogriff care. We'll be practicin' tomorrow!"

The three thanked Hagrid and scampered up to the intimidating castle. The sky had lightened considerably, warming their robes and skin, invigorating them. Even if they were going to be late, a bit of sun never hurt.

The three friends entered through the tall oaken doors, their shoed feet clicking against the stone. After being in the open sky Harry almost felt claustrophobic with the roofing above him. He shook off the feeling and hurried forward, actually wanting to get to the potions class and get it over with.

A chill went down his back and he looked around, feeling certain that he was being watched and knowing exactly who was watching. Harry spotted Daniel just down the hall, but the ghost wasn't looking at him. In fit, he didn't seem to even notice Harry, Ron, or Hermione, instead staring intently at a vase. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, and when he caught their attention he gestured to the man.

Daniel was indeed studying the vase. His green eyes roved over the white, porcelain container, and his nearly invisible finger swept over the wave-like markings on it. For a moment the skinny ghost seemed to cradle the vase's handles and his eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to lift it.

It was not meant to be, however, as the man's hands slid through the smooth handles and when he tried to lift it again the same thing happened. The next several attempts were more frantic, frustration and anger evident as Daniel rushed to brag the vase. Finally he threw his hands in the air with an exasperated exclamation and swept his arms towards the vase, sending it flying through the air which lead to it shattering spectacularly on the ground.

All present jumped, Daniel's hands grabbing at his vest and his right knee bending up to his stomach. A cackle rent the air as Peeves shot out of the table, hooting laughter at the startled people. Hollering laughter trailed after as he flew off, and Daniel let out a wavering sigh.

Harry nodded to Ron and Hermione and called out, "Daniel?"

Daniel jumped at the sound and quickly turned to face the three. He smiled weakly, nodding at Harry and glancing at Ron. When his eyes spotted Hermione, a strange look passed over his face, his "body" going stiff and rigid, his shoulders hunching up and his eyes glazing over as they stared off into space. Harry glanced at Hermione, and she raised an eyebrow as if to ask, "This guy? Seriously?"

Harry shrugged and looked back at Daniel, who was still stuck in a trance-like state. However, his expression had gone from blank to horrified, his pale face blanched even further and his jaw clenched and his teeth grinding together. Harry felt chilled. He started to walk towards the stricken ghost, calling out, "Hey, Daniel!"

Daniel jolted, stumbling backwards and tripping over his own two feet, giving a yelp before tumbling backwards on the floor and leaping back "onto" his feet almost instantly. Harry stopped advancing, Hermione and Ron coming to stand next to him, both staring nervously at the strange fellow before them.

Harry decided to go ahead with it. "Daniel, these are my friends, Ron…"

Ron waved weakly and said, "Hullo."

"…and Hermione."

Hermione smiled and said congenially, "Hello, sir, Harry's told us about the problem concerning your memory, and w-"

"Really, miss, that's none of your business, and honestly, I-I think it's best if you…you shouldn't be…I'm not-I-I really must be going," Daniel practically sobbed, pushing straight through Ron and Harry and giving them chills before dashing down the hall.

Ron righted himself, having staggered to the side when Daniel ran straight towards them. Rolling his eyes, he sarcastically said, "Real nice guy, Harry, oh yeah. What a cheery and charming personality. I can tell he's a people person," Ron ended with a derisive snort, looking down the hallway and frowning.

Hermione seemed anxious, and she voiced her concern, "Harry, I've never heard of a ghost named Daniel. In the book, _Hogwarts: A History_," she paused for a moment while Harry and Ron sighed, before continuing, "...by one Bathilda Bagshot, there's no mention of a Victorian era ghost named "Daniel", much less one with amnesia. Besides that, all of the recently deceased must meet with the headmaster to arrange a haunting in Hogwarts."

Harry and Ron raised an eyebrow, glanced at each other, and looked back at Hermione expectantly. She sighed in exasperation, mutters, "When are you going to _read_ it?' before saying, "That means that this Daniel guy has recently ed and he's managed to sneak into the castle unnoticed by security!"

Ron made a disbelieving noise and said, "Well, yeah, he's a ghost, Hermione, of course he can sneak in unnoticed. Ghosts can be invisible when they want to be."

Hermione hunched up her shoulders, a frown marring her features. Huffing, she said, "But doesn't that ring any alarm bells for you? An unregistered ghost who has continuously seemed Harry out? Not to mention his relation to Professor Trelawney's…episode," Hermione made a face as though she had just bitten into something incredibly sour.

Harry was starting to piece together what Hermione was saying. What if Daniel was working with someone who meant him and his friends harm? What if… what if Sirius Black killed Daniel and was using the ghost to lure hi to his death? Although farfetched, it wouldn't be beyond the man who betrayed his parents.

Harry nodded to Hermione and answered, "You're right, Hermione. I don't think putting blind faith in a dead man is smart at all," at which Hermione smirked at Ron, silently gloating.

"However," Harry mused, starting to pace across the cement floor, hand unconsciously reaching up to cradle his chin, "maybe we can play along with his ploy, act like we don't know what he's planning. That way he can lead us right to Si- whoever's using him."

Ron grinned and exclaimed, "Blimey, Harry, that's a great plan! Even if that ghost's telling the truth, we'll still have the upper hand."

Ron's grin widened and he put his hand in the air, palm facing outwards. Harry grinned back, raising his own hand, and two of the three best friends exchanged a high-five. Harry's grin faltered slightly as he thought about Black, but he shook off the feeling and smiled widely, ready to tackle the problem.

Hermione, on the other hand, was not nearly as amused, her hands placed on her hips, her eyebrows knit with concern. "Harry, Ron, I think we should go see Dumbledore about this. He'll be able to tell if this Daniel is lying or not, and I bet he can get into Daniel's memory, too."

It was Ron's turn to sigh, and he replied in a slight drawl, "No, Hermione, if we let loose that we know Daniel's playing us then the guy behind it will blow the coop. It has to be between us."

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione, silently willing her to agree. She hesitated, mulling over the possibilities, and finally sighed and nodded, opening her mouth to agree when the bell rang out. She was instantly frantic, darting down a hall and calling out, "Oh! We cannot be late!"

Ron shrugged, looking at Harry and saying, "Did you study for the potions exam?"

Harry felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and Ron noticed his expression as he sighed and said, "Well, maybe Snape will give us a break?"

"Yeah, right. Best not to give yourself false hope," and with that, the two dashed after Hermione.

They arrived at the classroom well after the correct time they were supposed to be there. As soon as they stepped into the room the temperature dropped a good twenty degrees. Hermione had told them it because some of the chemicals used in their potions were volatile and needed to be kept in a cold environment, but Harry (with Ron in agreement) thought it was because Professor Snape emanated a certain degree of chilliness.

Harry and Ron stepped in and took their seats next to Hermione, who frantically skimmed through her potions book. Shivering slightly, Harry had the notion to glance over hi shoulder to see if Daniel had followed him. No bluish light shone behind him, and the feeling of being watched seemed to have evaporated.

Ron glanced about, and he whispered to Harry, "Wasn't that ghost supposed to follow you?"

Harry shrugged and whispered back, "I guess he really did have to go somewhere. Maybe to talk with his employer?"

Ron nodded and, after glancing over at Hermione and grimacing slightly, decided to pull out his own potions book. Harry sighed and let his eyes wander about the desolate room.

The walls, if one could glimpse them behind the multitude of cabinets, were slick with humidity, green moss creeping out from the cracks in the gray bricks. Shackles were hidden behind the cabinets and (according to Fred and George) students used to find kinky ways to use them. Old cauldrons lay in one corner, cauldrons that were loaned to those who couldn't afford their own. The cauldrons looked like they hadn't been cleaned in decades, some having multi-colored mold growing on them, other with holes burned in their sides, and one strange cauldron that appeared to be a rusty old garbage can with blackened holes decorating it and bright green goo sizzling in its crevices. The tables and chairs sat in the middle, with a chair on each side and a hole in the middle of the table with a grate below, the perfect place to set a cauldron.

Pulling up his book bag, Harry started rummaging through what must have been hundreds of books before grabbing his potions book. He recognized it by the smell; one time he had spilled a potion for curing warts all over the book. It had turned a luminous shade of orange, and the stench that wafted from it had smelled like rotten eggs and mold. thankfully, Hermione had hoped him by using a bottle of Brentilda Winkybunions potion, "Stench-Be-Gone", although that was another story entirely…

Harry peeked over at Ron's book, seeing the page Ron had it on before flipping the pages in his book to the observed page. Frantically scanning the lines of the page, Harry settled on reading about the "Effects of a Solar Eclipse" when his book snapped shut, startling him and nearly clipping his nose. Jerking back, a monotonous and sardonic voice dragged Harry's eyes over to the used cauldrons.

"Ah, I see you couldn't study fast enough to save your life again, Potter," Professor Snape jeered, sauntering closer in his shiny, black, nondescript shoes.

Greasy black hair hung stiffly on his head and a sneer parted his thin lips just enough to let his white teeth show. His hooked nose wrinkled as though a bad odor wafted into it and his black eyes narrowed further. Snape glared at Harry for a moment longer before turning suddenly and scanning the room.

Dissatisfied, he asked in a sharp, yet still flat voice, "Where's Longbottom?"

Harry looked around at the seats, but Neville was nowhere to be seen. "_I thought he went in ahead of us…"_

Hermione was the first to answer, "I'm afraid we don't know, sir."

Snape sighed and deadpanned, "If I had wanted to know what you don't know, Granger, I wouldn't have asked you," under his breath he muttered, "Knows it all, feh! Clearly not."

Hermione deflated visibly and Ron automatically bristled, glaring daggers at Snape. The professor didn't seem to notice him, and with a wave of his hand all of the books went flying into their respective bags, nearly lobbing off some heads as shared books flew to their real owner.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for not knowing where their fellow students are. Not that we're missing much with _that_ nuisance gone," Snape commented off-handedly.

A barely stifled groan nearly escaped Harry's mouth. The noise probably would have set Snape off on a tirade of docking points. Besides, it was beyond strange that Neville was missing. He might have gotten lost, but…

"…if you speak during the test, you will receive the same grade as our absentee as well as deducting fifty points from your class." Snape pointedly glared at the Slytherins, "That goes for the rest of you. Now, begin!"

With another flourish of his wand, papers flew from a cupboard obscured by many large bunsen burners and strange devices, followed by quills and stoppered pots of ink. Harry ducked as one flew at his face. Turning around to "begin", he grabbed the quill and stared at the test. Sweat started to trickle down his face, and he nervously plucked at his collar.

All of the words made little to no sense. None of the questions were multiple choice and the spaces to write in the answers seemed far to small to fit the obviously gargantuan word required. Panicking, Harry abandoned the first page and flopped the stack of papers to the back, trying to see if one jumped out at him.

Of all questions concerning the moon and the magical effects of moonbeams, he managed to pick out a single word: Damascus. Homing in on his only hope, Harry eagerly read the question.

It concerned memory and how much one should take to lose a certain amount of one's memory. "_Great, chemistry and math_," Harry thought moodily.

It was curious, though, how a strange tickling at the back of his head seemed to tell him he knew the answer. Shrugging, Harry decided to win the rest of the test. Oddly, the answers seemed to flow easily, the stress leaving Harry relaxed and anxiety-free. Being relaxed, Harry forgot an important rule that applied to his life so far: prepare for the unexpected.

It happened with a horrible scream renting the air. The singular screech was quickly followed by a chorus of scream and a monstrous, gurgling snarl. Snape shot up out of his chair, where he had lounged and glared at students to make them squirm for sport, immediately ready for action with his wand pulled out and pouted at the entrance. Someone was pounding down the steps towards them.

Snape leaped on top of his desk, shouting, "Stand back everyone, and if you are so competent, have your wands at the ready!"

Everyone bolted from the chairs and huddled closer together, Snape marching to the door and holding his arm out as if to shield the students. Harry studied Snape for a moment, and when the professor glanced at him, Harry blurted, "Why would you want to protect us? You hate all students!"

A strange look briefly flitted over Snape's face, but it hardened instantly and he droned, "I have to ensure my paycheck is all, Potter."

The door burst open and Harry tensed, everyone raising his or her wand and aiming it at the perpetrator. Neville staggered in, gasping for air and clutching at his chest. His face was blanched, sweat dampening his broad and staining his underarms (noticeable despite the black robes), his entire body trembling. His mouth gaped, a gasping noise making its way out of his throat, slowly becoming more understandable.

"Spit it out, Longbottom!" Malfoy snapped.

"M-M-Monster!" Neville stuttered, a sudden weakness catching hold of his legs and causing them to buckle.

Harry and Hermione darted forward, catching him before he hit the ground. They lowered him down the steps and dragged him fully into the classroom, setting the poor fellow on a nearby chair. Snape strode over and bent over Neville, looking a bit like a malevolent crow before waving his wand and murmuring something under his breath.

Straightening up, he glared at the gawking class and snapped, "If I catch any of you d-"

Screams suddenly tore through Snape's speech, quickly multiplying and increasing in volume. They were relentless, and Harry felt nauseous from the helpless he had from being unable to do anything.

"_Is no one helping them?!"_ Harry thought desperately.

Snape actually looked concerned. With a wave of his wand all of the test papers flew off of the tables and into a shelf in his desk. Snape cleared his throat before announcing, "The test is over. I-" a particularly blood-curdling scream interrupted him, and he winced before finishing curtly, "No one leaves. If I catch _any_ of you trying to play heroics… " he gave a pointed look to Harry, Ron and Hermione, "…fifty points form Gryffindor."

Snape dashed up the stairs and out the door, casting a protection spell on the door before sprinting away. The class cowered in the furthest corners of the room, listening to the muffled cries of fear echoing down from the upper reaches. At least, that's what they were supposed to do.

Harry and Ron gave each other a look. They glanced at Hermione, who hesitated before nodding affirmation. Ignoring the warning Snape gave them, the three went towards the door, and directly into danger.


	6. A Monster Within

"So, who wants to bet it's either the dementors or Sirius Black?" Ron asked off-handedly.

Harry, Ron and Hermione pounded up the stairs, towards the sound of screaming voices. Despite the obvious danger, all three had an urge to help their fellow students.

"I don't think it'd be possible for Sirius Black to cause this much mayhem. Sure, there would be panic, but the professors should have taken him out by now. Unless…" Hermione slowed to a walk, almost stopping as a look of aghast horror spread across her face.

Ron and Harry stopped as well, and Ron asked, "Unless?"

Hermione frowned, her eyebrows narrowing, and she waved a hand dismissively. Upon seeing her companions' confused expressions she explained, "Well, if he was using a firearm of some sort, Neville would probably be… Anyways, it would be much louder than it sounds."

Harry shrugged and they continued forward. When they finally reached the landing the screaming had quieted. The hallway opened before them and all three took a sharp intake of air, Ron muttering, "Looks like a disaster tore through this place."

The paintings that normally lined the walls lay in pieces, and Harry could only imagine how the displaced painting characters were fairing. Any decorative tables were thrown around and lying on their sides or backs, splintered and cracked from whatever tore through them. Glass shards littered the floor from the paintings' shattered frames. Harry noticed a shard from a vase similar to the one Daniel had examined earlier embedded in the wall.

The three moved quietly, picking their way through the hallway. Harry wished he had the Invisibility Cloak with him but knew that such foresight would have been impossible. As they traveled the wreck and ruin, Harry spotted a door that appeared to have met its end, having been nearly destroyed. What remained ere shards of wood clinging to the hinges and the door frame, which looked to have caved in near the middle. Harry gestured to the room and the three stealthily approached it. Harry, erring on the side of caution, peered inside, along with the others.

At first, they saw nothing besides the wrecked furniture and a closet door, pieces of fluff and wood strewn about like the intestines of a gruesome murder scene. They gave each other looks and nodded, preparing to leave when Harry felt a tingling sensation lift the hair on the back of his neck, and suddenly a very soft, almost inaudible whimpering reached them. Stepping into the room, Harry scanned it for the source, worried that a younger student was too terrified to leave, or worse, that he or she had been injured.

Eyeing the large chunks that were the remains of the closet, Harry slowly approached it. It was a decent sized wooden closet, made to fit jackets of even Hagrid's size. One door lay on the ground, gashes in it indicating that the monster had some form of claws. The other door dangled from its bottom hinge, the top part of it hanging lopsidedly. The breathy whimpers were coming from behind the door, and Harry nodded at Hermione and Ron before reaching forward and yanking the door open.

A startled, breathless yelp greeted them, and Daniel went straight through the bottom of the closet remains in his haste to escape. Surprised, Harry asked loudly, "Daniel?! What are you doing in the closet?"

Daniel shot up form the base of the closet and rushed over to Harry, hunching over and whispering, "Shhh! T-the monster will hear you! And I'm hiding from it and you should probably find your own hiding places because this one's a bit cramped as it is and-"

Hermione stepped in and whispered commandingly, "Daniel. What happened?"

Daniel pulled away from her, his green eyes darting this way and that, only occasionally glancing at Hermione and wincing when she made eye contact, almost as though she had hurt him in some way. His hands fiddled with the string on his vest, whirling about frantically and tying it in ever-increasing knots. He kept stammering in incomprehensible gibberish until, after about a minute of nonsense, Harry sighed and stepped forward, letting a rather indignant Hermione step out-of-the-way.

Daniel hesitated for a moment for a moment upon seeing the switch before he blurted, "W-well I was wandering the hallways, trying to figure out my past life and all that when I-I-I saw this m-m-man who reminded me a great deal of another fellow who was _not _very nice to me at all. He… he was covered in blood and chains and I..I had to get away, I didn't want to look at him. He reminded me of… Well, I got into this room, but since the other man looked a bit like me, you know, "ghostly", I thought I needed somewhere to hide. So, I leaped into this, er, well, it was once a closet," he gestured at the remains of the closet before continuing.

"It, the closet, it started to shake and something whirled around inside before, in the very same closet I was occupying at the time, IT appeared. I swear it just _poofed_ into existence! I ran out of there and it broke down the closet doors trying to come after me. I ran out of the room and met up with a friend of yours, I think, and I tried to tell him to run and the monster burst of the room. We both ended up running away, but I left when he started to go down…_there. _I came back here because I don't think the mister would check the same place twice."

Once Daniel finished, becoming rather withdrawn and silent again, Hermione burst in, "That wasn't a real monster, then! It was the boggart we defeated with Professor Remus!"

Harry nodded, the fear that had gripped his chest releasing like a burst of cool water breaking free of the ice that bound it. The first step in defeating an enemy was defeating the idea that you couldn't win. At least, that's what Remus had told him.

"Let's get moving. We know how to defeat it and we've wasted enough time," Harry said, leaping back from the closet and dashing towards the doorway, not waiting to see of the others followed him.

He heard them running behind him as he sprinted towards the distant sound of screaming when a voice called out, "W-wait!"

Harry stopped for a moment, feet planted on a broken painting. He glanced behind him, looking past his fiends at the bluish ghost behind them. A sudden anger took him and he glared at Daniel and said, words laced with venom, "He put you up to this, didn't he? Used your own monstrous memories against us here…"

Hermione's eyes widened in startled realization, Ron looked puzzled and Daniel appeared bewildered and…injured. Deep down Harry felt a prick of guilt, but that didn't stop the anger broiling inside him, overwhelming thought and burning through his sense of right and wrong.

Harry couldn't tell if Daniel really was working with Sirius Black or not, and if the ghost did this, had intentionally hurt his classmates...he would find some way to track down the one responsible.

Leaving the ghost behind, the three followed the wreckage inflicted by the boggart. Painting figures flitted through the torn shreds of their homes, some sobbing and trembling with fear and others raging about and cursing the beast. The brickwork of the hallway seemed to gape before them, the decorations that once made it homely crushed and broken.

Running down the hallway, they noticed Professor Flitwick's classroom door lying in the middle of the hallway, shattered almost beyond recognition. Looking at the room itself showed that it was boarded up extremely well, with pieces of splintered wood and glass lying about the mound. Figuring that the occupants were safe, and hearing no screams behind the barricade, the three continued their voyage further.

The noises from the monster grew louder every second and they could just make out its grunting cries and snarls. Anxious to deal with the creature, Harry started to break out into a sprint when Hermione lunged at him and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back and away from his goal.

Shaking her head, she whispered, "Harry, even though we know it's a boggart, what if the form it took has...'overwhelmed' whatever fears every individual has?"

Harry paused, looking ahead to where the hallway sharply curved to the left, ending in a straight corner. He could hear the monster just beyond, shuffling and huffing. A pang of fear laced through him, but a quick jolt of anger, brought on by the thought of who was behind this, pushed it back down. Harry tore himself free of Hermione's grip and growled, "It's not going to overwhelm me."

Ignoring her whispered, "Harry!", Harry approached the corner, sliding up against it and tightening his grip on his wand. Holding it out and remembering the way he felt when he received his Firebolt, Harry shifted about and peered down the corridor.

The sight was hideous to behold. White, deadened flesh sagging over itself, clumps of greasy hair clinging to its scalp, and a horrendous protrusion of yellowed, caked in dirt and grime bone extending from its left arm. Harry felt a shudder run up his spine, his vision blurring as he stared at the thing. It seemed to sense his stare, and with a loud snarl it turned nimbly around and glared at him. Harry couldn't contain a gasp as he saw the thing's face, for it didn't seem to truly have one. One long, swath of bloodied, rotten jowl dangled from its head. It was clear that this used to be its jaw, yet it had long been torn out-of-place. Teeth stuck out of the ruined jaw, a testament to whatever horrors befell the creature. Its upper jaw looked collapsed, lumps of skin piling on top of one another. Two black lines scored down its eyes and their sockets, with beady yellow eyes glaring back at Harry.

But the worst part about it was the smell. The smell thickened the air, a bitter, unforgiving blend of alcohol, moldy, rotten flesh, and the sharp tang of blood, fresh and old. Harry felt the fear take hold of him, and although he knew dementors were what scared him, this beast seemed to have the same effects. It started to lumber towards Harry, stumbling over a thick, robed figure, gaining momentum in its advance towards him.

Harry stood there, petrified. As the beast gained momentum, now almost sprinting towards him with its shambling gait, he could hear..._her. _The first to come were the screams, followed by the panicked, terrified begging. "_No! No, not Harry! Please..!"_

Harry didn't feel his knees go out from under him, nor the impact of his body on the stone floor. He did feel freezing cold, hear the screaming, and see the deadly green light that flashed before ending her life...

Feeling pained in some way seemed to be Daniel's lot in life. Even though it wasn't _physical_, so to speak, the aching in his heart that he had just lost someone who he considered at least an acquaintance _hurt._

_"Plus," _he thought miserably toward himself as he floated slowly down the hall, _"I am responsible for that monster...but I didn't really know it would be in th-... No!"_

A stern expression crossed Daniel's face, and he balled up his ghostly fists aggressively. His floating picked up speed, his legs moving to propel him towards the danger. His inner monologue went something like this: "_No, I have to take responsibility for this mess! Even if I can't do much, I can.. I can distract the monster, at least. I just have to remember that I am.. ghostly and that it cannot hurt me. Should be easy enough...right?"_

His coattails actually flapping in the wind, he turned a corner and his determined expression instantly dropped, and he back pedalled furiously as the scene unfolded before him.

The monster had cornered Ron, who looked ghastly pale, his numerous freckles and red hair looking almost illuminated against the white backdrop. Hermione had managed to slip out of reach. She stood over Harry, who was lying down on the ground, unmoving...

Almost back around the corner, Daniel stopped in mid-flight. A sort of panic over took him, and he flew forwards again, yelling shrilly, "Grunt! C-Come and get me, you grunty, ugly thing!"

The Grunt, confused by the sudden noise that wasn't screaming, turned around, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. It took it a few seconds to spot Daniel, and when it did a horrendous, guttural snarling erupted from its hollow throat. Daniel yelped and almost fled, but a quick glance at the children strengthened his waning resolve, and he yelled back, "Come and get me, you nasty piece of work!"

Snarling something that almost sounded like a human curse, the Grunt forgot its living prey and honed in on the ghost. Daniel, not waiting to see if the Grunt would follow, spun about and hightailed it.

His own lack of footsteps made the Grunt's seem louder and heavier than ever before. The labored breathing seemed to be right on his back, and terror gripped Daniel's heart. A dull, yet increasing pain bloomed in his skull as he fled down the disfigured hallway. Suddenly, voices accompanied the pain, as well as an incessant ringing noise. The Grunt, sensing its prey's weakness, picked up speed. Daniel barely heard the "whoosh" before claws shredded down his back, tearing the flesh and spilling his blood on the floor. A small, feeble cry escaped him before he crumpled to the ground. The voices had increased in strength, and he could hear them screaming, screaming, begging for their lives, wishing him to hell, cursing, screaming...

Harry awoke with a gasp, instantly trying to gasp for his wand as he whispered hoarsely, "Expecto Patronum!"

It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings, and his blurry, tilted vision finally settled down to normal. Blinking owlishly, he looked up to see Hermione, Professor Lupin, and Dumbledore standing together and talking. Other students were milling about, and he could see Snape propped against a nearby wall, pointing his wand at a huge, bloody gash on his abdomen and muttering some sort of healing spell.

Trying to stand, Harry's legs didn't seem to want to cooperate. His entire body trembled, as though it was the center of its own personal earthquake. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself to his feet, staggering to the left and finding a wall there. Leaning against it as his body slowly recovered, he strained his ears to hear what the headmaster, professor, and Hermione were discussing.

"...but those haven't been seen since the Dark Ages! There's no way a boggart would even know how to morph into one-"

"Not unless someone from that era eared that creature intensely, Hermione. You say that an...unregistered...ghost triggered this abomination?"

"Yes, headmaster Dumbledore. But he has clothing reminiscent of the late 1800's. It doesn't make any sense at all."

"Perhaps you're right, Hermione. ow, you say it went after this same ghost?"

"Yes, they both ran...well, the one sort of 'floated'...that way," Hermione continued, pointing down the way Harry was standing. She gasped when she saw Harry standing there, quickly running over and giving Harry a hug. She then pulled away from him hurriedly and gasped, "Harry! You're so cold."

Harry managed a weak smile and shrugged. Dumbledore and Lupin approached as well, Dumbledore smiling widely at Harry, contrasting with Lupin's cold demeanor. Lupin quickly blurted, "I really must go after this boggart," before rushing down the hall, wand at the ready and a snarl on his lips.

Snape, coagulated blood thick on his robe and a sneer on his even paler face, muttered, "Looks like Lupin was running from the hounds."

Harry almost missed the sharp glance Dumbledore gave Snape, but it was quickly replaced by his almost ever-present smile.

"Harry, are you quite all right?"

Harry put on a brave face and, after swallowing, said, "It's nothing I can't get over, sir."

Dumbledore's smile widened, and he straightened up, saying, "Harry, meet me in my office later. I would like to discuss this ghost of yours."

With that the headmaster swept away, leaving Harry and Hermione with a very agitated Snape. Snape, glaring venomously at the students, droned, "You three will be serving detention for disobeying direct orders. I'm sure Filch will _love _to have you. The suits of armor need polishing, anyways."

Muttering under his breath, Snape limped off, corralling wayward students and ordering the back to class. Harry glared after the greasy-haired Professor's back for a moment before shaking his head and asking Hermione, "Where did Ron get off to?"

Hermione hesitated before telling him, with a slight smile on her face, "He actually came up with the idea to fetch Dumbledore and Lupin. We both went to get them, and once we got here Ron doubled back to get Madam Pomphrey."

Harry, strength returning, grinned and asked, "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

Hermione gave him a confused look before he continued, "To not be the one to reach a solution first?"

Hermione looked shocked for a moment, and then she grinned back and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. Harry swayed from the blow dramatically, grinning all the while.

Eventually, the Professors managed to round-up the students and head them back to class. Using a bit of magic, they easily cleaned up the mess the monster left. The way the shards of glass danced through the air, chunks of wood fitting back together again neatly and seamlessly, and how the picture people rejoiced delighted the students and almost put the horrible monster out of everyone's minds. There were some injuries to attend to, but all occurred by a misstep on the glass and other debris.

Classes went on as usual, and when they were over and dinner was served, Harry, Ron and Hermione met up together to discuss what, exactly, had happened.

"So, yeah, I basically came up wif that entire plan by meself," Ron bragged through a heaping of pumpkin pie.

Hermione groaned, and, glancing around as though someone might hear in, she brought out a book. Harry eyed it over his pumpkin soap, looking at its blackened, tattered cover and illegible title. A smell of mold and mildew wafted from t, overwhelming even the sweet smells of dinner. Everyone nearby gagged, and Hermione ignored them as she opened the old book, flipping to a page she had marked.

Gagging don the smell, Harry peered down at the faded image as Hermione began to explain, "The monster we saw today is actually a cousin, if you could call it that, of the dementor, which explains why it caused your fainting spell, Harry. Just like the dementors, they feed off of fear. They have poor eyesight, which makes it easy to avoid detection through sight, and can be avoided if one stays in a dark place and crouches down. That's good to know, I suppose... They are also attracted to light, which makes sense."

Ron, holding one hand over his nose as he shoveled food into his maw with the other, waved his fork and said, "Ge' on t' th' good bits, Hermermer."

Glaring at Ron for a moment, Hermione continued, "They are made by-... Oh, my Goodness.."

Hermione's face blanched, and Harry peered at her with concern.

"Hermione? These things are _made_?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, dropping the book as her hands shot up to cover her mouth. Harry grabbed the disgusting book as Hermione swayed back, eyes fluttering closed and body making retching motions. Ron, who had only been half paying attention, butted in, "See?! That smell was bound to give you nausea eventually!"

Harry stomped Ron's foot and started to read the passage out loud, "'In order to make a 'non compos mentor', one must have a compliant or non-compliant human. The subject is given a curse, preferably in an alcoholic substance. The creator, after the subject has ingested the liquid, must cast the spell immediately. Like the summoning of a dementor, the summoning of a mentor involves a pinpoint focus on despair, fear, and death. The creator must focus this negative energy into the vessel. Once completed, the transformation begins. The...intestines and other human organs are expelled through the mouth. Bones break, often slicing through the flesh. The left arm bones will lengthen, tearing open the flesh on that arm. The entire process is excruciating. Often times the subject will need extensive implants to obtain mobility..."

The book, reeking with more than its odor, slammed shut and was quickly shoved into Harry's bag. The once delicious meal looked like a poor man's fare now, and all three shoved their plates aside.

Harry, against his better judgement, asked, "How...how often were these performed?"

Hermione looked at him and shook her head. She took a shuddering breath and breathed, "Too often."

Later that evening, Harry made his way to Dumbledore's office. Every shadow that so much as twitch made Harry start in fright, a sense of paranoia having seized him after reading that book. He swore he could hear the grinding and snapping of bone just out of sight, accompanied by screams of terror. Fearing that the boggart would appear again, Harry sprinted won the last corridor and nearly slammed into the statue blocking the entryway into Dumbledore's office.

"L-lemondrops," Harry muttered at the statue, and it complied by swiveling around and revealing its stairs. Stepping on, Harry watched as the stairs swirled around, circling as they carried him higher.

Once at the top, the fear that had seized him during his brief journey seemed to vanish, replaced by a feeling of awe and wonder. The room was filled to the brim with magical paraphernalia, including the Sorting Hat (balefully staring at the rest of the room), the countless pictures of the previous headmasters (all snoring loudly or grumbling at being disturbed), the Memory Vat (a swirling grey mist of wonder), and Fawkes the Pheonix (whom Harry greeted and stroked). Dumbledore looked up from his desk and opened his arms widely, smiling as he said, "Hello, Harry! Glad you could make it. Come, come, take a seat. I'm all ears if you're willing to tell..."

Harry took the wooden chair Dumbledore beckoned to and sat down.

"Thanks, Dumbledore. Now, I know it's rather strange already, but it started with a dream..."

"...and then you saw what happened with that boggart today. I think he is working with someone in order to hurt m-...everyone here," Harry finished, shuffling anxiously in his chair.

Dumbledore had listened intently throughout Harrys tale, brow knitted and fingers steepled, his elbows resting on his desk. He nodded once the story ended, looking first down, then closing his eyes and raising a finger and waggling it a bit. He opened his eyes, and Harry saw a slight twinkling there.

Standing up, Dumbledore rumbled, "You know, Harry, this castle has many, many secrets in it. Not all of them are bright and pleasant. It does displease me that we even have dungeons, yet, there they stand, a testament to the cruel, sadistic nature of human beings. However, I think the best, if it could be called 'best', time to bring out this dark, brutal demon within ourselves is when we are most afraid. You see, a man is never more dangerous than when he fears for his life. You yourself are a testament to that fact."

Suddenly Dumbledore clapped his hands, ushering Harry to stand. A smile had replaced his frown, and he handed Harry a lemon drop before herding him on the stairs, all the while saying, "Well, when you find your ghost friend, bring him here and we can try to sort through his memories using the Memory Vat! Or something of the sort...perhaps a 'Remembrall' will do? Anyway, enjoy life, Harry, and do try to say out of trouble."

With a wink and a nod, Harry was spiraling downwards once more. Looking at the lemon drop, Harry pondered Dumbledore's words about fear, before recalling that he had a detention to serve down in the very same dungeons the headmaster had mentioned. Pocketing the sweet, Harry dashed out of the elevator and hoped that he wasn't too late...

**Author's Note: **...and that marks the end of that chapter! The first thing I have to say is that I am so, SO sorry for that wait. It's just that life really does get in the way sometimes...and the internet... Oh, and these two awesome games called _Mass Effect, _and more recently _Luigi's Mansion 2: Dark Moon._ Rather different genres, am I right?

Anyways, I have NOT given up on this story! I shall not, especially considering I already know where this is going... It would be a waste not to continue! However, comments and reviews are greatly appreciated, as whenever I read one I get this strange urge to write...hmmm...imagine that...

If you have to say something about the story ("I know where this is going!" "You misspelled 'the' a thousand times!' 'This story sucks!'), gimme some constructive criticism! You may definitely criticize the time it takes me to write, _especially_ if you don't like the chapter. My only request if you do is that you tell me _**why.**_ Thank you in advance =)

Besides that, thank you for reading this far! If you're new or returning, thank you again, just for being you!

Now, for the story... Why has Daniel suffered physical pain from the Mentor's attack? Will Harry make it to detention in time? Does he even want to?! And what the heck was Dumbledore talking about? Tune in (message becomes garbled, filled with static and white noise) for the next exciting chapter in HRP! (P.S. Whenever I think of the acronym for this story, I can't help but think of "Herp derp!" =)


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